


Graduating

by Messyfruit



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Cumming of Age, Eremin - Freeform, M/M, Mainverse, Mutual Pining, erearu - Freeform, intimate exploring, lmao ignore my tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-27 22:17:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15034487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Messyfruit/pseuds/Messyfruit
Summary: Bootcamp graduation is fast approaching and Armin is worried sick about passing. Salvation comes in form of Eren's soothing touch... But with it, comes a different obstacle. What will they be admitting to one another by continuing to touch, once Armin's stomachache mends and no longer serves as an excuse?





	1. The shift

**Author's Note:**

> This is set to an AU where everything is the same, only they graduate from bootcamp at the age of 18, because I don't want to write underage, yet want to set the story to bootcamp. Simple fix. Ah, the unlimited power of fiction, haha.

The last month of bootcamp before graduation was especially hard on Armin. Aside from the strenuous workouts – that, no, after three years still wasn’t ingrained in him like breathing or thinking –, there was also the new, creeping fear of whether or not he’d actually be able to complete the exam. It hadn’t taken more than two days back in 847 for him to understand that the eventual concluding test might kill him. If the three years building up to it didn’t, that was.  
He’d been able to put the worry aside, thanks to other more time-relevant worries along the way – there was always a sore muscle, hunger, or new blisters to tend to – but now the final month was nigh and all the thoughts and fears he’d repressed were bubbling to the surface all at once.  
At first it had seemed only like a mild headache. Then slowly, over the course of the day, the ache had turned into an internal cranial pressure, then a stinging heat that built in his chest – and by the evening, he was doubling over in abdominal pain so often he was excused from their daily run by Keith himself; not even three years of discipline could make it happen, the instructor seemed to agree – surprisingly lenient for once. Armin was in too much pain to be upset with how this probably meant the man had given up on him altogether. It took all his focus now to get back to the barracks still standing, vision as blurred by pain as by tears. His mattress was cold, hard and uneven when he got there, but it didn’t matter; it was a relief just to curl up and let the tears flow freely, whimpering and all, without being heard. All the while, his belly kept burning. 

Nobody returned to the barracks until late that night. Armin would later come to learn that Keith had made the spontaneous decision to take them for a hike due to exceptional weather. While this has given Armin much time to cry his heart out, he couldn’t deny a certain longing to reunite with his bunkmate, Eren, after it had been a while; not only did sleeping next to him provide mental relief, he also felt a tinge of sadness for the time being, that his best friend hadn’t come to check on him yet. Again, later that would be cleared up, but right now, Armin was starting to miss the tender company that nobody but Eren provided.  
That’s why, when the class finally started filing into the barrack well past midnight, in slow, exhausted fashion, Armin’s attention soon resurfaced from a strained slumber, to that of keen anticipation. Without opening his eyes, he listened for the distinct footsteps he’d come to know… Connie… Jean… the extra creaks from Reiner’s weight… and finally, Eren! Armin’s eyes opened a slit, gauging the boy lit by strips of moonlight. He looked awfully exhausted, even in the dark it was visible. Armin instinctively wanted to tend to Eren somehow, despite still choking back tired tears of his own. He opened his mouth to speak, to let his compassion be known, but just then, Eren sighed. And as he sat down on the edge of the bed, he let his hand brush across Armin’s cheek with feather lightness before bending to undo his boots.  
Armin was stunned to silence; he hadn’t expected Eren’s gesture: for sure, he must have thought Armin was still sleeping? Had Eren stolen a tender moment because he thought it wouldn’t be registered? Not sure why, Armin decided not to break Eren’s illusion, and was about to close his eyes again when Jean shot him a glance.  
“Oi…You’re bloody lucky, Armin. Have you been in bed since Keith excused you?” He was looking right at him. Marco poked his head out next to him, and added to it: “are you feeling any better?”  
The illusion was broken. Such direct speech indicated the person being addressed was awake. No doubt, Eren had reached the same conclusion; Armin could see it by the way his shoulders raised and stiffened. Armin’s cheeks were warm too, now, and his stomach gave a sudden lurch that had him breathless. He curled up slowly, and looked past Eren’s back to look at Jean. “I-I’mh-…” When did his voice become so raspy? He must have gotten the flu on top of everything. Great. He shook his head apologetically and closed his eyes; he didn’t want to reply after all.  
Eren turned his head to look at him, and Armin quickly moved to face the wall, hoping it was taken as an invitation to the spot next to him, rather than avoidance. Inspecting the dark wood wall, Armin was suddenly extremely aware of his own fresh set of tears. 

After what felt like a small eternity of eyes burning a hole in his back, Armin registered Eren’s movements as getting on with undressing, and finally the boy turned to get settled on the bunk. Armin heard the bedding ruffle and felt the other carefully wiggling closer behind him.  
“Armin…” It was a whisper. By the tone of Eren’s voice, Armin knew there was no need to muster a reply; it was just a way of letting him know ahead of time that Eren was about to either touch him or talk to him. Not having a preference as long as it could distract him from the pain, Armin closed his eyes and anticipated either, just before he felt his duvet move to let Eren’s hand snake over the edge of his side. The soft movement with which Eren then placed his hand over his aching tummy, surprised Armin further. Well, just a little; his best friend had always possessed this woolen soft side to him reserved only for Armin, but seeing him a hardened soldier more often than not these days, he could still baffle Armin with how uncharacteristically gentle he could turn now and again. The cheek touch had only been the beginning.  
The two of them had never addressed it with words, but this exclusivity channeled only at him, had always filled Armin’s stomach with butterflies; it made him feel loved. Loved by Eren. Loved in a special sort of way, a way much like the way he loved him back. No, they never said it out loud, yet Armin felt like they had expressed this love for one another in subtle ways for as long as he could remember.  
Now the butterflies were back, coming alive from the touch of Eren’s fingertips, soothing Armin’s burning tummy from the inside and distracting his ache with thoughts of love. He held his breath and focused on the relief, letting the tension in his body leave him little by little as Eren’s hand felt secure against his stomach. The tears that the pain had forced him to shed, made his muscles jump intermittently, but it didn’t take long until even that settled.  
Eren’s hand was stroking shy circles over the thin fabric of his pajama shirt now and it was all but an instant remedy.  
“Eren,” Armin began, not even sure what he wanted to say, but Eren merely hushed against his hair, and Armin didn’t need to be told twice; he kept his eyes closed and relaxed against the mattress, following Eren’s circling palm with his attention. What had felt like a dangerous burning pain to the abdomen all day, was now reduced to a weak, numb pain that just left Armin’s skin hypersensitive to the touch. 

They lay like this for a long while, Eren just stroking Armin’s stomach and Armin gratefully accepting the help to keep the pain at bay. All that was heard between them in the dark of the barracks was the slow stir of the duvet covering them, and Armin’s occasional strained inhale. During one particularly strained breath, Eren finally stopped his movement, and Armin was about to ask him to please continue as the prickling heat crept back, when he felt Eren’s breath against his neck once again:  
“Is it helping…?”  
Armin’s throat bobbed quickly and made a dry clicking sound. He had been so sure Eren knew what a saving angel he was being – but then he didn’t? Armin felt a strong, urgent need to convey how indispensible Eren truly was: “Yes,” he huffed. “A-re you tired? It feels so much better when you-… You’re a big help.” He felt helpless to express what had remained wordless between them all this time. He could tell Eren his stomach was better, yet that wasn’t what he truly meant or needed him to know. But the pillow dipped behind him as Eren nodded in some form of understanding, and Armin hoped he really did.  
“Good,” his friend whispered, with a tinge of renewed self-assuredness. Armin felt the hand on his stomach move to reposition itself, and with a jolt of surprise, he registered the hem of his shirt getting caught on Eren’s pinkie, and being hiked up. His physical twitch jumped the other, and Eren’s movement stilled in an instant. His breath pushed out in a huff against Armin’s hair, and he stuttered: “s-sorry!” His fingertips inched over the bare skin, to pull the shirt back down between them. An embarrassingly thin barrier, now. The hand lingered then, holding the hem still, waiting for a reaction that hadn’t come – a sign that he’d overstepped a boundary, Armin assumed. But he hadn’t; Armin didn’t mind. As a matter of fact… He rested his own hand on top of Eren’s, and after a moment of waiting, silence speaking for the both of them, their hands slid together underneath the fabric. Not far, no – but an inch or two; enough to make Armin’s heart jump, and Eren’s breaths come out in short bursts against the other’s neck. Together, they resume the circling motion Eren had set earlier. The relief was instant – stronger even, now that Armin felt the touch directly on his skin. His face felt many degrees hotter than his stomach did, but he was certain it wasn’t due to the sickness.  
It didn’t take long until this new territory felt natural to the both of them, and Eren’s touch became surer and surer. Wishing this intimate, soothing comfort would never end, Armin was thus slowly lulled to sleep. The last thing he remembered before diving deep, was Eren’s hand coming to a slumberous rest over the lower part of his abdomen, sending comfortable sparks through his body, where they coursed and lingered like ocean waves. Oh, the ocean… one day they’d see it… together… 

The next morning, Armin woke to his shirt still hiked up past his chest, but where Eren’s warm palm had rested the night before, there was now a cold gust of morning breeze caressing him in its place. Sitting up, Armin got oriented enough to understand that not only was he alone in the bed; he was alone in the barrack. A mix of disappointment, confusion and relief washed over him. His stomach growled unhappily and he curled back up, missing Eren.

For the next three days, this became their routine; the instructor gave Armin sick-leave to spend the entire day in bed, in the evening Eren would join him there and fall asleep with his hand on his stomach, and by the morning, Armin would wake up alone. It was a surreal few of days; he hadn’t had this much time off training since before the signed up, and, well, him and Eren had never left so much unsaid between the two of them. Apart from the occasional “how’s the stomach?”, “are you any better?” and “today was awful”, there wasn’t any need for verbal communication at this point; the touches and closeness had automatic consent, and Eren no longer needed reassurance from Armin to know how to touch; he stroked, massaged and circled his fingers across his chest and stomach with confidence now, and Armin wasn’t afraid to let Eren know it was helping, in form of hums and soft sighs. Other than that, it was a silent, mutual understanding. A silent, mutual experience best shared without words… As a matter of fact, if Armin was honest with himself, he was sure this worked precisely because it wasn’t spoken of. Ever. Eren would lie down, and Armin would anticipate his hand, and then they resumed what was left off the night before. No mention of how much they both seemed to appreciate it, seemed to hold out for it, look forward to it. Miss it during the day. Armin was sure,… this would only work as long as neither of them acknowledged how their breaths seemed to get heavier the longer Eren’s hand was on him, and how… Armin was sure… last night… he’d felt Eren grow firm against his back after he gave a particularly soft sigh. Especially that last part had remained a resilient memory in Armin’s mind till the morning after. Finally he was feeling an urge to talk to Eren about it. Especially after Eren seemed to cut the caressing short not long after what happened, and discretely shoved off to make room between them. Armin felt a need to tell Eren that he hadn’t minded. As a matter of fact,… there was something rather arousing about it. Thinking about that firmness pressing up against his back, the faint huff Eren had given… The image fueled a different kind of tingling deep in Armin’s stomach. A kind of tingling he’d wake up to after he’d had another one of those special kinds of dreams… Another thing he’d never tell Eren. 

On the forth morning, Armin could no longer excuse himself from exercise; his stomach was a lot better – much thanks to Eren, he was sure – but also because he thought if he was to have any chance at passing the upcoming exams, he needed every bit of practice time left.  
So, shaking off what tingles from last night remained, Armin got out of bed that morning, stirring before his thoughts became too heavy, and got dressed. He met up with his class as they were running laps, and he fell into steps with Eren next time he passed. Neither of them spoke. The instructor saved them the effort, calling across the field.  
“I see you’re back on your feet, Arlert? Good! I don’t know what Yeager did that the infirmary couldn’t, but looks like you might be ready in time for graduation after all! Keep up now!”  
Armin and Eren offered each other a side-glance and kept running.


	2. New territory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Armin no longer needs Eren's hand, will he dare to admit he still wants it?

What Armin had earlier felt a burning need to bring up with Eren, had by the time they found themselves face to face at dinner, become a tentative secret that he yet again felt was best left unsaid. Or rather, untouched, one could say - in more ways than one. Neither of them had uttered a word to one another all day, and even Mikasa was taking notice of the dynamical shift.  
“Eren, are you sure you’re not getting sick? Have my potato, you need to eat!” Meeting only meek objection, she rolled the promised potato from her plate to his. It did nothing to put her at ease, however; the different air was still there.  
Armin looked from Eren’s plate to his face, and gave a soft smile, which his silent friend returned. After all, they weren’t on bad terms. Rather… in uncharted territory. Though, questions were becoming a clear foreground obstacle. Ones that were beginning to bother Armin and stir his mending stomach: now that his belly wasn’t in aid of soothing anymore, would they still be resuming their newfound habit tonight? Was the bellyache a necessary excuse to continue their exploring? If it wasn’t,… what would they be admitting to one another by touch, if they continued their intimacy? The questions heated his cheeks and he looked down to poke at his food. Eren did the same. 

When evening inevitably came around, the two best friends were the last to find their beds; the rest were fast asleep before Eren had finished drying himself from a shower, and Armin had returned from an extra long walk around the perimeter. Meeting face to face by the boy’s wing entrance had confirmed the electric tension Armin had already begun to take notice of, and Eren seemed to feel it too: his walk was jerky and his eyes darted more than usual as he approached. Armin could relate.  
The anticipation was palpable. Different than the expectance of a hand snaking around a waist to rest on an aching belly; the sudden mental image of an erection pressed meaningfully against his back came to mind and forced Armin’s face down to seek hiding beneath his bangs.  
“I’m so ready for some proper sleep now,” Eren muttered. He was attempting effortlessness, but it came out sounding awkward. Armin hummed and nodded, giving a badly timed giggle. Was he to understand Eren’s comment as a hint that he wanted to go right to sleep without any intimacy? Or was it just smalltalk?  
“Yeah… me too…” Armin took the lead into the lightless sleeping locale, glad to hide his blush in the dark. His nerves were coiling in his chest as he stripped to his undergarments. Then he got settled in bed with as little creaking as possible, and waited. Eren joined him, the bed sheets ruffling familiarly behind him, and Armin closed his eyes, waiting…  
And waiting…  
And waiting…  
His heart was beginning to sink, when finally, as if prompted by a sudden snore from the next bed over, Eren’s fingertips landed softly on Armin’s hip under the blankets. They lingered there, and Armin realized he had been holding his breath; he exhaled slowly, trying to hide it, as he sank into the bed. What was Eren waiting for?  
“Is your…” Eren began to whisper. His thin voice revealed he’d been holding his breath as well. Armin had half a mind to turn around to kiss him just for that; “I’m nervous too,” he wanted to say.  
“Does your stomach still hurt… at all…?”  
Armin didn’t know how to answer. He remained still despite his sudden inspiration, but he needed a second to consider: should he lie? That would grant them the excuse they needed to prolong their ritual another night. But if so, wouldn’t that mean it would be another night of hidden intentions and false pretenses? Allowing Eren to touch him under the guise that he needed him to do it, would only postpone the inevitable need to acknowledge that he did it because he wanted to – wouldn’t it? And wouldn’t Armin go yet another day feeling like he needed to tell Eren the extent of his enjoyment of it as well, if he didn’t make it clear right now? Should he wait, or would he dare to tell the truth?  
“It’s… a lot better,” he compromised. The words hung between them, muddy and indecisive. Armin felt Eren’s fingers begin to brush directionless circles on the peak of his hip, and his cheeks resumed their prickly burn. “A-actually,” he mended, understanding he needed to try again, to make a choice. “I’m fine, but I sleep a lot better when you do that…” This time, the pause between them was clearer; the words were sinking in, putting things into place. Armin’s hard swallow felt to him like it was echoing through the room, and his heart was beginning to become noisy.  
“Hmm,” Eren eventually hummed. His hand moved, and Armin sighed in relief as it found its place and began sliding up his stomach. He loved how warm Eren’s hands were. Even when his stomach had been on fire, there had been something special about the heat Eren provided, something loving. Now that Armin wasn’t sick anymore, the contrast between his cold skin and Eren’s warm palm became even more obvious. So he kept his eyes closed, and traced Eren’s touch by the way the heat moved over him. It gave him goosebumps.  
Eren exhaled deeply – still managing his breath, Armin realized, with a guilty sort of delight – and repositioned himself. Despite edging closer, he kept his distance this time. To Armin, the reason was painfully obvious: Eren didn’t want to risk embarrassing himself again, lest he got aroused a second night. But while he seemed to wish to avoid a repeat of yesterday, this was what Armin had been hoping for – even more so than the soothing touch itself. He hadn’t dared to admit it to himself, but he knew better than to deny what he felt. After all, he simply couldn’t forget about it. He wanted to feel it again. The sweet dizziness of it. What it implied… Whatever it was that it implied.  
So he swallowed hard a second time, and as Eren’s hand slid over his chest, Armin held his breath and wiggled carefully backwards. At first, Eren copied the motion, giving a surprised huff. And Armin was about to apologize, face instantly dark with shame from overstepped boundaries and misread signs, when Eren’s squirms stopped. When Armin tentatively tried again, the other remained still this time, allowing them to connect and press together. As they did, Armin could feel Eren’s heart beat fast against his spine.  
“Is… this alright…?” Armin heard himself whisper. Eren didn’t answer, but he rested his forehead against Armin’s shoulder, and his hand resumed its slow motion across his chest, albeit less confidently.  
“A-alright,” Armin concluded, windpipe tightening. His pulse was pounding in his ears to the rhythm of Eren’s heartbeat now, and his legs had taken on a faint tremor that created friction. They pretended that neither of them noticed; Eren kept stroking, and Armin tried to breathe. They kept it up until it felt natural again. It took a few minutes, but maybe the comfort of it helped them relax despite the nerves. The room fell deafeningly quiet.  
Then Eren buried his face in Armin’s hair, took a deep breath, and he said it. “Sorry about yesterday…”  
Armin hadn’t expected him to bring it up. To admit to it, make it real. He hadn’t prepared a response for this. Eren’s hand came to rest over the lower part of his abdomen, where his thumb kept brushing lovingly over a very modest happy trail. That touch was making it hard for Armin to speak, but he mustered it somehow:  
“I didn’t mind-”  
“I didn’t mean to-… like, I don’t even know what... like…” Eren was stumbling over his own prepared excuse, Armin could tell. He wondered how much it had eaten him up inside.  
“Eren, really…” He rested his hand over Eren’s. “I didn’t mind…” Say it. “It was… nice…” You can do better. “I liked it.”  
Silence.  
Armin thought his heart might explode. He couldn’t have read the signs all wrong, could he? He wouldn’t scare Eren away. He had to be right; he couldn’t take the consequences of being wrong about this.  
Eren inhaled again to speak. “… Armin, you don’t have to say that just to make me feel better…” He was testing the waters. Armin could hear the doubt in his voice; was Eren scared to believe?  
“No, really.” He closed his eyes in attempt to ward off dizziness. He thought he might need to fan himself lest he die from heatstroke. But his hand was still on Eren’s and it felt nice there. He continued; Eren was quiet in anticipation. “I think it means… you like this too. L-like I do… I like this…” Oh, wasn’t he supposed to be the wordsmith? He swallowed hard. “It’s nice to know you feel the same way I do… I was thinking… All day… I liked it…” Eren’s thumb brushing his lower abdomen was making him tongue-tied.  
The other considered in silence yet again. Someone coughed in their sleep and next time he spoke, Eren’s voice was barely audible. “So it didn’t weird you out…?”  
Armin did a small chuckling inhale, smelling soap from Eren’s hair. “No… No, I liked it… Is that weird? That I liked it…?”  
“I don’t know… I don’t think so…” They were both relaxing, their shoulders sinking, while their hearts raced. Armin was smiling; his chest bubbled with excitement again.  
“Was it because of me?”  
“… because of you…?”  
Armin considered that he was being too bold, but it if this wasn’t the right time, what could possibly be? “Yeah… was it because of… w-well, I…made a noise… last night… sort of like a moan… sort of. Was that… did you like that? Or was it just because you like touching-…” No, he was really being too bold; Eren was shifting uncomfortably on the bed now. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer,” he whispered quickly. “I just… I’d like to know what you like.” Oh god. The flush was back in his face, rapidly expanding down his throat and over his chest. Even his bangs were getting sweaty. “Aah, sorry! Ok, just ignore that. Just pretend I didn’t say anything. I’m sorry!” He brought both his hands up to cover his scorching face. Eren kept squirming: his hand moved to Armin’s hip, then he sat up and yanked his own shirt off before lying back down, huffing with embarrassment.  
After meticulously shifting to find the perfect lying position, Eren eventually came to rest again, close against Armin’s back like before, and his arm snaked back around the smaller boy’s waits with surprising assertiveness.  
“It was the moan, I think… or a combination…” Something in his voice had changed; there was a syrupy tinge, something that lingered in every syllable. There was a hopeful, yet brave new strength to it.  
The earnest reply fueled Armin’s blush further, but not as much as the new sensation did: unmistakably, he felt the same firm poke against his lower back that he had felt the night before. Only this time it pushed against him with intention, unapologetically - almost daringly. And for the first time, Armin noticed how hot it was; it seemed to radiate heat. And had it been this hard last night? The feeling of it was almost demanding – and most definitely arousing.  
“Eren…”  
“Armin,… the other night… were you dreaming of me?”  
The question caught Armin off guard. He couldn’t remember what he’d dreamed for the last month or so – he rarely remembered his dreams at all. What Eren was referring to… had Armin had a wet dream? Maybe he’d made noises in his sleep? Maybe even said Eren’s name? He couldn’t be sure, but nothing made more sense to him than his secret dreams involving Eren and himself. The ones he remembered were like that. He felt dizzy.  
“Yes.”  
“What were we doing?” Eren’s hand was back at Armin’s happy trail, massaging him tenderly but with intent. All the heat that went into his blush was quickly pooling between his legs now. It was getting harder to breathe properly.  
“You were touching me,” Armin heard himself whisper. “Touching me and-…ah!…” He gave a choke as Eren’s fingertips slid underneath his boxer. Just an inch, but more than enough to make his erection throb.  
“Touching you…?”  
“Yes!” Armin yelped, almost thinking he’d shouted; he was quickly losing his restraints. Maybe he really was having a wet dream after all?  
Someone muttered something in their sleep, and shifted in their bunk across the room, and Eren hushed quietly against Armin’s hair.  
“I’m sorry. Yes, t-touching me…”  
Eren’s hand inched further down as Armin spoke, sending sparks through Armin’s entire body on its way. “Y-you were making me…hard…”  
“Are you hard right now?”  
Armin’s mind was swimming, heavy with want and heated with thoughts he rarely dared to indulge. Eren’s hips rolled faintly against him, his bulge pushing a slow, needy grind against his tailbone, prompting him to answer: “yes… I think… I want you to feel it… D-do you want to…?”  
The hand slid downward in response. Fingertips were brushing the base of his erection now, tentative yet eager. Armin gasped for air, then bit down on his lower lip hard to prevent a long drawn moan as Eren’s fingers carefully closed around the base of his cock and started stroking up the length. It took all the self-control Armin had acquired through training, not to let himself go right at that instant; this was nothing like doing it himself – this was cannon fire, if masturbation was a match light. Waves of heat and sparks traveled with Eren’s grip, and covered Armin’s body like a blanket of electricity. His friend was huffing against his neck now, and the slow grind of his hips was quickly turning to ruts of impatient need. “You feel good,” he panted. “This feels good…”  
Armin moaned low in response. He didn’t think he could formulate a sentence at this point; it was all he could do not to raise his voice in heated exclamation. Good was an understatement.  
Eren’s grip lingered as it reached the head, then slowly pushed back down along the throbbing shaft. Armin squirmed and moved his hand back to hold on to Eren’s hip, pushing them closer together. Unsure of what he even wanted, he began to roll his hips in rhythm with Eren’s ruts, and Eren gave an eager grunt in response.  
“I didn’t know if you wanted to,” Eren began, his voice a breathless whisper. “I thought it bothered you…”  
“No,” Armin moaned softly. His pitch rose with Eren’s traveling grip. He wanted this. He had always wanted this.  
Eren’s hard erection pushed up underneath Armin’s shirt, making it heated skin against heated skin.  
“Ffh-…” Eren was losing his composure; it was obvious from the jerking in his movements – from his desperate grind, to the quiver in his hand. “I need to finish,” he gasped. At first, Armin wasn’t sure he understood, but then Eren’s hand gave his cock a sudden spastic squeeze, and both of them gasped in unison. The two boys muffled their moans by biting down on lips, and Armin closed his eyes as he felt himself come into Eren’s palm. There was a wave of sudden shame that threatened to overtake him, but a new sense of jubilation and daring joy overpowered it easily. Up his back, he felt a wet heat spread in the fabric of his shirt. Knowing Eren must feel the same mix of embarrassment and liberation now, made him feel better; they were in this together. Daring to explore and trust in one another’s openness and lack of judgment. As a new wave of utter relaxation came over him, Armin realized there was no one he’d rather explore with than Eren; there was nobody he trusted – or loved – as much as him. And when Eren planted a haphazard kiss against his hair, he was assured the feeling was mutual. 

They rode out their orgasms together, slowly falling into a synchronized pattern of pants - and after a while of blissful silence, Eren pulled his hand out from Armin’s boxers, and rested it on his stomach like he’d done the nights before. Armin rested his own hand on top of it, and hummed low. They both seemed to consider talking – perhaps to question what to do with the sheets – but inevitably, the serene new calmness that had come over them, made the decision for them: they’d deal with it tomorrow. For now, all they desired was to fall asleep together, enjoying the aftermath of their exciting explorations, and dream of what may come next. 

The morning after, Armin awoke with Eren still by his side; a change he greatly appreciated. His hand felt sticky, and so did his back, but in a way, it made him feel proud; it reminded him of what they’d just shared the night before. They had been brave. They had been intimate. They had been the only two people in the world, and it had felt amazing.  
Looking down at his still sleeping friend, Armin couldn’t fight the urge to brush his hair aside and repay the cheek touch from so many nights ago: he stroked his clean hand carefully across Eren’s cheek, and smiled when he saw it spark a faint eyebrow twitch. He allowed himself to recognize the feeling that surfaced: Eren was cute.  
Half the barracks was up and gone already; it was Sunday, the one day a week without excessive training. Breakfast must have started in the dining hall, Armin concluded. He considered sneaking food back to the bunks to surprise Eren with breakfast in bed. Food in the barracks as strictly prohibited, of course, but somehow, Armin felt daring today…  
For the first time in a month, anxiety over fast approaching exams didn’t even faze him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that wrapped itself up quicker than I expected. I'm sure I can build on it if there's a demand, but I think I'm happy ending the fic here. I hope you enjoyed it :) I'd love to know if you did!


End file.
